


The Family of Things

by indigo_inkpot



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Car Accidents, Crying, Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Whump, is that tag still a thing? do we still use that word?, minor character injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2020-02-29 05:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18772321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_inkpot/pseuds/indigo_inkpot
Summary: Nicky was used to being called because he was Andrew's emergency contact, but there was only one time Andrew called him because it was an emergency.Finished, but with potential for a second chapter!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to goldkirk for introducing me to The Geese by Mary Oliver, I feel like it describes so well the way Nicky loves his cousins.
> 
> You can read that poem [here](http://www.phys.unm.edu/~tw/fas/yits/archive/oliver_wildgeese.html)

Nicky signed up for a whole lot when he assumed guardianship of the twins. Sleepless nights filled by bad dreams (mostly Nicky's, it seemed) and calls from schools were regular events in their lives. The kitchen seemed to be stocked with cheap, strong coffee and comfort food, mostly ice cream.

When they get to Palmetto, things get easier. Nicky isn't so afraid to let the twins out of his sight, although that's not a problem with Andrew's possessiveness. They have somewhere safe, real lives to live. He's not worried about how to feed them or clothe them.

Neil's first year was one of the most stressful of Nicky's life. In the months that follow, Nicky will lament his early greying to Erik and blame his first grey hairs on the boy his cousin is obsessed with. By the end, though, Neil is just another one of Nicky's kids, and he'd do anything for him the same way he would for Andrew and Aaron.

Nicky isn't a stranger to phone calls at what his parents would've called "unsociable hours". Between playing timezone lottery with Erik, living with the twins for years and dealing with the nocturnal habits that ensnare most students, Nicky has developed the ability to drop off at a moments notice and wake up at the barest whisper. Which is how he hears his phone's gentle buzzing from the weird fuzzy novelty phone holder on his desk, and is out of bed to answer before it rings out.

He answers, and at first he thinks it's a spam caller or some creep from campus, because the line is pretty much silent. He thinks he can distantly hear someone breathing, so he hangs on.

"Hello?" He pulls away from the phone to check for a caller ID, and his stomach drops: it's Andrew.

"Andrew?"

"Nicky?" Andrew's voice sounds rough and confused. Nicky can feel his heart rate creeping up, so he sneaks out of the bedroom, nearly tripping over a beanbag in the middle of the floor. When he still doesn't hear anything from Andrew, he slides his feet into his boots, grabs his keys and hoodie, and leaves the dorm.

"Andrew, what's going on?"

"I don't... Why did you call me?" Fuck, he's either been drugged or punched. Nicky pounds on Matt and Neil's dorm. Neil is probably at night practice but Matt should be in there.

"Andrew, you called me!" It's hard to keep the panic out of his voice, and he swallows the fear creeping up his throat.

"...oh"

"Andrew? What's going on? Talk to me."

"I'm bleeding, head hurts." Nicky didn't think he could get any more frightened, but his stomach is officially on the ground floor of Fox Tower. Yup, there it goes, bye bye internal organs, hello all-encompassing dread. At least Matt finally opens the door. Nicky motions at him to put his shoes on, and grabs his car keys off the kitchen counter, shoving them into his hands.

"Fucking hell, okay Andrew, where are you?"

"In the car, I was driving to pick up Neil and Kevin from the court. I went to go get cigarettes."

"Where are you, Andrew, I need to know _exactly_." He puts the phone on speaker, and immediately regrets it.

"Near the grocery store by the park- oh!" Andrew's breathing picks up, and his inward breath does that little wheeze that Nicky is intimately familiar with. He laid awake in bed and listened to that sound on and off the entire time they lived in Columbia. Say what you like about the twins being different, but they have panic attacks in exactly the same way.

"Andrew, what? I need you to tell me what's going on hun!"

"Nicky- Nicky I think I hit something -fuck. Nicky I think it was an animal-" Andrew sounds like he's going to cry, which means concussion, which means they need Abby or a hospital. Nicky flies down the last flight of stairs and bursts out of the exit.

"Okay Andrew, it's alright - shh, I'm on my way, you're going to be alright, I'm coming to get you." Nicky's definitely going to cry, he grips Matt's arm tightly as they start the truck.

"Nicky-" He cuts himself off, clearly trying to breathe through the panic. Betsy's taught him so well, Nicky can hear the difference, but it's hard enough to come down from a panic attack when you're _not_ concussed and bleeding.

"It's okay, we'll deal with whatever this is okay, but I need you to keep talking to me? Where are you bleeding from?"

"My head? I don't know, my hair is wet and my face hurts." Nicky's never heard Andrew like this, and it's terrifying. The need to be with him and look after him snarls inside his chest like a wild animal. He belongs to Andrew, but Andrew is _his_ too, even if he would never tell him that out loud.

"Okay, I'm on my way, I'm nearly there alright?"

"Nicky, I'm really cold."

"I know, Andrew, it's the shock, okay? You'll be fine." They drive past the grocery store, and Nicky nearly punches Matt in the face when he sees the tire tracks leading off into the treeline of the park. The Maserati's tail lights are just barely visible through a hedge.

Nicky dives out of the car, shouting back at Matt to call Abby, before he's tearing through the bushes. The Maserati had come to a stop when it crashed into a tree on the edges of the park, the front has crumpled on the driver's side, and the driver's door is opened.

Seeing Andrew, Nicky gets the urge to throw up. His hair, usually soft and effortlessly styled, is matted with blood where he seems to have hit his head off something - maybe the door panel or the steering wheel, Nicky can't tell. His face is already starting to come up in awful bruises, across his cheekbone, up his temple and into his hair.

Nicky moves himself into Andrew's sight, crouching down by his knees next to the driver's side. Andrew looks at him, dazed, and for a moment Nicky could convince himself they're not at the site of an accident, but at home, Andrew is tired from an early start or something, everything's fine.

No, stop it, Nicky, get a grip. He has to be present, has to be there for Andrew. He can lie to himself about the severity of the situation when Andrew is safe.

"Hey Andrew, I'm here. Remember, I said on the phone I was on my way?" Andrew's eyes seem to flash with recognition, then panic, then - oh fuck, _oh fuck those are tears_. Nicky is not prepared for tears, fuck. He goes in to hug Andrew - he knows it's a bad idea and backs off at Andrew's stuttered "no" - and hovers his hands above Andrew's left hand.

"Can I hold your hand, Andrew? Yes or no?" Andrew nods, and the wail he lets out when it shifts something in his head - or his neck, fuck, what if there's something wrong with his _neck_ \- is the last straw for Nicky. He feels the tears dripping down his face as he takes Andrew's hand.

"Squeeze my hand, hun, you squeeze as hard as you gotta, okay?" Andrew's grip immediately turns to iron. Matt comes up behind the car, tucks his phone between Nicky's ear and shoulder, and leaves with Nicky's phone, discarded on the grass, and still connected to the call with Andrew.

"Nicky?"

"Hi Abby, I hope you don't mind the late night call, but am I glad to hear your voice right now." Nicky laughs, still crying. He's a mess, Andrew is a mess, the car is a mess. Tonight is the night to be an emotional mess.

"Oh Nicky," He can hear Abby's voice wobble. Why not, he thinks, one more person crying can't make any difference at this point.

"So," Nicky clears his throat, wincing as Andrew's grip slackens and then tightens. He loves this kid so much and seeing him hurting is killing him, "What's the 101 on speed demons and car crashes, Dr Winfield?"

"What are his symptoms?" He hears a car door closing, and he hopes she's bringing Wymack. He can't get Andrew out of this car on his own, and Wymack is the only person Andrew might tolerate to help.

"Confusion, some memory loss - he didn't remember calling me, thought I'd called him - bleeding from somewhere on his scalp, bruising on his face," Nicky takes a deep breath, "Abby, he's crying and I think he's hurt his neck." His voice wobbles, and he clamps the phone harder against his shoulder to he can lean down and rest his forehead against their clasped hands.

"Okay, Matt gave me directions, we're nearly there. His neck might be hurting from whiplash, or from muscle tension. Just keep him still and as calm as you can, we'll be there soon." Nicky breathes out a sigh of relief "I'm going to hang up now, you're doing great Nicky."

"Thanks, Abby. See you soon." He takes one hand off Andrew's to put the phone in his pocket. Andrew jerks at the movement, like it woke him up, gasping when he jars his neck.

"Andrew, it's okay, just stay still, alright, I'm not going anywhere." He puts his hand back, so Andrew can feel both of them. He's really shaking now, and Nicky completely forgot to mention it to Abby.

They sit there for a minute, Nicky keeping up a constant stream of reassurance and Andrew sitting as still as he can despite the shivering.

"Nicky? Andrew?" Nicky has never been happier to hear Wymack's voice, and it's nearly enough for him to lose it again.

"Over here!" He yells, then turns to Andrew, "Wymack and Abby are here, okay, we're gonna make sure you're safe to move, and then get you out of here." The idea of getting away from the crash site seems to catch Andrew's attention. Nicky's heart wrenches, for a creature of habit like Andrew, he probably just wants to go home. Abby appears, hauling the duffel bag she uses for away games, Wymack not far behind her. He's carrying an arm full of blankets and a few of Abby's oversized hoodies. Too good, Nicky thinks, these people are too good for any of them, they don't deserve these two but he's so grateful for them.

"Well shit, you did a really good job here, Andrew," Wymack says as Abby starts to unpack her kit. She doesn't say a word at first, and Nicky can see it's because she's fighting tears.

"Can I touch your neck, Andrew? I need to check for any damage and look for swelling or bruising that could make it dangerous to move you." Abby is matter of fact, but gentle, and Nicky can tell she'll overexplain every little action if it keeps Andrew feeling safe. He gives quiet consent, but his other hand slips into Nicky's, and his grip steadily tightens the longer Abby is touching him and asking him questions.

"I think he's okay," Abby sits back and removes her gloves, "His pupils are the right size, he's able to tell me what hurts, he isn't vomiting or slurring his speech. He needs to come stay with us tonight, someone is going to need to monitor him for the next couple of days, but I think we can handle this."

Nicky breathes out a sigh of relief so sharp he chokes on it, and it's a second before he can take the next breath in.

"So the next step is getting him out of the car. We can't lift him, if he's nauseated or wobbly then we need to know he'll stand on his own before we ask him to walk. Andrew, David and Nicky are going to stand either side of you and hold out an arm for you to grab onto. You need to lift yourself out of the car using that help. Let's get your legs out so you can try." Abby moves so that Nicky can help Andrew keep his balance while he lifts his legs out of the foot-well and slides himself around.

When Wymack steps forward, Andrew stops.

"No."

Fuck. Nicky knew they were pushing, knew that Andrew would have limits, but they were _so close_.

"That's fine," Abby reassures him, "You can hold onto Nicky's hands, just like you are now, but he can't pull you up. You've got to stand on your own."

It takes them a few attempts. Andrew seems to doubt Nicky's grip the first time, and aborts at the last second. Then, Nicky has to step in and help Andrew lower himself back onto the seat when his feet slip. By the time they manage to get upright, Andrew is breaking out in a sweat and Nicky's arms are beginning to ache.

"Checking in, Andrew, what's going on?" He gives Andrew's hands a gentle squeeze, and gets a longer one in return.

"Dizzy," he grinds out, closing his eyes, "don't let go."

"I won't, I'm here." Nicky promises, letting Abby direct him gently as he guides Andrew back to the road.

They let him sit in the back of Abby's car. Nicky makes Andrew put on one of the hoodies, one with a wide neck and baggy sleeves that swamps his tiny cousin (he's so _small_ , Nicky forgets sometimes, and then it hits him out of nowhere) but once Nicky has swaddled him in a blanket too, he's relatively sure Andrew won't be feeling cold in a minute. He can't fix the dizziness that seems to have crept up, or the pain (right now, but that's next on his list) but he can make sure Andrew isn't shivering by the time they reach Abby's.

Matt has gone to fetch Neil and Kevin, under strict orders to bring Neil here and then head back to the Tower with Kevin to make sure some of them at least get some sleep. Truthfully, Nicky doesn't want Aaron waking up alone, but he can't bear the thought of leaving Andrew. He gets Andrew out of the car, into the house and settled on the bed in the spare room he used last summer, before he seems to exhaust Andrew's tolerance for his touch. He stays nearby though, rearranging pillows on the bed and giving Andrew something to brace against so he can kick off his shoes.

Abby comes in with antiseptic and alcohol wipes, and Andrew's poker face only barely twitches while she finds and cleans the wound on his head. It's mostly closed, she reassures them it won't need glue or stitches, not even a bandage as long as he lets the air get to it. Nicky is privately grateful the twins don't have his hair type, because the same injury with anything other than blond wisps would've meant hacking away at Andrew's hair. She gives him a blister pack of ibuprofen and another of over the counter painkillers, lets him pop them out himself and tells him he can have Nicky tell him when he should take more.

Neil arrives, and Nicky could marry him. He comes armed with a gym bag full of everyone's clothes - pjs, sweats, toiletries, the works, for not just himself and Andrew but Nicky too - and a carrier bag packed to bursting with all the foods Andrew won't tell anyone he loves to eat. Nicky spots the pack crackers and the bottles of Gatorade and thinks sadly for a moment that Neil probably knows too well how concussions work.

He leaves them for a while, and when he comes back, Andrew is curled up on his side, still in the hoodie. Neil is stretched out beside him, propped on the headboard and playing on Matt's DSi. Andrew seems to be fighting sleep, so he fills Neil in on what's happened, what Abby has told them to do, what the danger signs are, and then makes a swift exit.

He's going to call Erik, cry for a minute, then find one of the _real_ adults in this house and get a goddamn hug. Everything else can wait until morning.


	2. The Night After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't walk away from a car crash and pretend nothing happened (as much as Andrew would like to).  
> You certainly don't get to walk away from two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to google when the DSi came out to confirm that Matt could canonically have a DSi...then panicked when I couldn't remember the release date for Cooking Mama (don't worry, it's March 2006)
> 
> I feel like I’m stretching character behaviour here, but this is fanfiction, I can do what I like!

Abby is a goddamn _saint_. Not only does she drag herself and Wymack out of bed to come rescue them in the middle of the night, but once she's done rescuing them, she immediately fires up half the appliances in her kitchen. While Nicky is on the phone to Erik, she's whipping up a myriad of supplies and turning her kitchen into a hive of activity.

Wymack prepares an army of hot drinks, and helpfully points out that although the bag of chicken nuggets Abby pulls from her freezer may claim to contain protein, it's probably the ideal amount for an _eight year old_ rather than a twenty year old athlete, not to mention they're not really the kind of post-workout meal he or Kevin would advocate for. Abby responds by whipping him across the back of the head with a dish towel and putting the nuggets in the oven anyway, muttering something about family resemblances.

Nicky comes out of the living room, wiping his eyes and feeling older than he has any right to. He walks towards the kitchen island and is intercepted by Abby for a much-needed hug, before Wymack shoves a mug of her "dreamtime" tea into his hands. He nurses the mug, sitting at the island until Abby pulls out the tray of nuggets. At her insistence, he chews his way through a couple, then takes a plate through to Neil and Andrew. It doesn't look like they've moved at all since he left, except Neil's hand is down on the mattress by Andrew's head and the backs of his fingers are just barely touching Andrew's cheek and nose. Neil's got the DSi clamped between his bent knees, and is scribbling furiously on the touch screen with the stylus. He huffs in frustration as Nicky sets the plate down on the bedside table and climbs onto the bed by Neil's feet. The shifting weight of the mattress catches Andrew's attention, and his eyes open.

He must be satisfied with Nicky's presence because when his eyes close again, a little bit more tension leaks out of his shoulders. Nicky can just see his hand crawl out from under the covers to touch Neil's fingertips. Neil quickly abandons the game console in favour of the food, pulling the plate onto his lap. He passes a nugget to Andrew, and starts digging into the rest. Nicky picks up the DSi and laughs.

"How do you fail this badly at Cooking Mama?" He asks, flicking through the recipe pages full of bronze tokens.

"He can't cook in real life, why would he be any better at making virtual food?" Neil glares at Andrew, but holds out another nugget for him nonetheless.

They sit there for a while, trading nuggets and the DSi until Nicky feels exhaustion pulling at him. Wymack ducks his head through the door, armed with more hot drinks, which he leaves on the dresser.

"In case it wasn't already obvious, practice is cancelled for all three of you tomorrow. Get some rest," he closes the door behind him before Nicky can muster the energy to leap up and hug him. It's late, he's too tired for leaping. Leaping is for when he's awake and not full of chicken nuggets and lavender chamomile bullshit.

"Mmm, you're cool with me sleeping here right?" Nicky stretches, before flopping across the bottom of their bed. He feels Andrew's foot stretch down the bed and prod at him from under the covers. He gives Andrew a cheeky grin, and gets nothing in return. That's fine, nothing is good, nothing means Andrew is feeling normal. He can go to bed and trust him to Neil for tonight.

"Alright, I get the message, I'm goin'!" He laughs, rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing on his feet; a second slower and his knees would've been bitching for a week. He takes his fresh mug of tea and heads to bed.

* * *

 

Nicky can handle nighttime interruptions. He can handle Aaron screaming at Andrew in the middle of the night, looking for a reaction. He can handle Andrew waking him up at shit-AM because he wants breakfast and he doesn't want to be quiet. But he became a guardian to two teenagers; their idea of an interrupted night to them was some singular loud and traumatic event followed by a lie-in that often lasted until lunchtime. He never had to deal with the yo-yo sleeping patterns of a parent with young children.

So when he wakes up for the second time that night, in a bed that's not his dorm bunk, and still in his hoodie, he's thoroughly disoriented and slightly uncomfortable. It takes him more than a minute to get his bearings this time, and he doesn't immediately register the footsteps going past his door until they're starting to fade down the hall. Bare feet, somebody small and light.

Fuck, if that's Andrew... Nicky rips himself out of bed, skidding for a second in his socks.

His bedroom door is ajar. He can't remember if he left it like that or not. He peeks out into the hall and just misses Andrew heading down the stairs, but he hears him stomp all the way to the bottom, and sees the lights flick on.

Nicky's pissed, for a moment. If this is Andrew being a little shit, after everything they all went through tonight, Nicky's going to...do something, when he's had enough sleep for his brain to properly formulate a plan for revenge. Right now, he's focused on getting Andrew back to bed, quietly and with minimal bribery.

Any hope of it happening 'quietly' die almost immediately, as he hears the sound of Neil's gym bag - abandoned on the sofa, full of clothing, toiletries and phone chargers - being shaken out onto the floor.

_What the fuck, Andrew?_

He's quickly turning Abby's living room into a fucking disaster, pulling all the shit out of Neil's bag and just throwing it anywhere.

"Andrew!" Nicky hisses. He's halfway across the room, picking up one of Neil's running shoes and a stray charging cable, before Andrew looks up. Nicky stops short.

He looks like shit. And not just "I had a rough night" shit. The kind of shit that's ringing alarm bells for Nicky. Andrew's default setting is 'pale', but he looks almost grey at the moment, eyes smudged with purple and matching shadows around his neck where the bruising is starting to develop. Now that he's still, Nicky can see that he's shaking too. It doesn't last for long, because the instant Andrew recognises Nicky (which takes a worrying minute) he's charging towards him.

"Where's Aaron?" Is absolutely not the question he was expecting.

"Aaron? He's back at the Tower, asleep. Like how we should both be asleep. Andrew?" But he's already gone back to digging through the stuff on the sofa.

"Where are my keys?"

"Your keys- probably still in your car? What's so important about the keys?" Nicky picks up the abandoned gym bag and returns the shoe to it. Andrew snatches the bag and begins opening the zippered pockets. "Andrew, you're scaring me."

His head snaps up at that, eyes wide. Nicky doesn't get to see expressions on Andrew very often, and he'd quite like to never see this one again.

"Aaron's okay?"

"He's good, he's safe. I'm more worried about you right now. Talk to me, Andrew." It takes Nicky a moment to realise why that phrase sounds familiar, and he runs through the symptoms and warning signs Abby gave him, feeling distinctly sick. Andrew starts to breathe heavier; before Nicky can try to talk him down, his shoulders are heaving.

"I did it on purpose."

Nicky's heart plummets so fast he's dizzy.

"You- Andrew, what are you telling me?"

"I did it on purpose and I did it for him!" Andrew snarls, and Nicky could have easily believed his body was trembling with rage.

"What the hell does that mean? You told me last night you swerved to avoid an animal! Now you're telling me you crashed your car for what? Aaron? I thought you were both done with these deals?"

Andrew's not looking at him anymore. He's not breathing either. He’s sweating and he looks horrified.

"It wasn't-" He stops, looking around at the mess like he's seeing it for the first time, "I didn't- I don't- _Nicky!_ "

He looks so panicked, so frightened and Nicky suddenly realises that this is _Andrew_ , this is _his kid_ crying out for help. He holds out his hand and Andrew grabs for it.

"You're okay, Andrew. I'm here, you're safe. You're at Abby's and Aaron's safe in his bed at the Tower. Sit down, it's okay, you're alright." He leans over to clear a space on the sofa, but Andrew sinks to the floor instead. Any surface is better than falling over, so Nicky hands him a pillow, which Andrew pushes between his chest and his knees. There's a knitted blanket on the back of the sofa, so he offers that to Andrew too. He takes it and Nicky makes himself comfortable with his back against the sofa. He's still holding Andrew's hand, but he doesn't plan on letting go until Andrew tells him to.

Andrew doesn’t usually tolerate anyone him near when he’s having a panic attack, Nicky isn’t sure about Neil being an exception to that rule, but it means he has no idea how to help his cousin not-hyperventilate on Abby’s living room floor in the middle of the night.

In the absence of any real plan, Nicky does what he does best: talk.

"So, Erik and I have a little bet of our own going on right now. I know you like hearing about these things so you can act all smug and omniscient when the outcome is something nobody bet on, so I'm gonna tell you about this bet. I think that Wymack will propose to Abby if we win the league next year." Nicky's doing his best not to stare at Andrew, but he can see out of the corner of his eye that he's listening, and his desperate grip on the pillow is more of a rhythmic squeezing now. "Erik, with all his infinite wisdom, thinks Abby will propose before Christmas so she has a reason to keep us all around for at least part of the holidays."

"Aaron's safe. Neil's here. I crashed my car."

"Yeah, you did a really good job of it, too." Nicky smiles at Andrew, who won't meet his eyes anymore.

"Did you find it?"

"Find what, hun?"

"The thing I hit?" Nicky sighs.

"Matt looked, Andrew, but there wasn't any animal on the road and I couldn't see a single mark on your car that couldn't be explained by the crash itself. Whatever you thought you hit, it made it out of there better off than you did."

Nicky's really beginning to think he sucks at comforting people, or maybe just sucks at comforting Andrew specifically, because he puts his head down into his pillow and _cries_ , and Nicky kinda just wants to cry with him (again). He loves the twins so fiercely it scares him sometimes, the overwhelming need to protect them and the paralyzing dread when he realises he can't. But he can do this. He can sit with Andrew and hold his hand when he's scared and concussed and feeling guilty over an animal he nearly killed himself to avoid hitting.

It occurs to Nicky that his sweet, weirdly-morally-driven little cousin is crying because he was so convinced he’d hurt some random innocent creature, like his stupidly fancy car had squashed Bambi’s best friend and made him the newest Disney villain. Shit, he loves this kid so much, the emotion sits around his lungs in tight, heavy coils.

Andrew's relaxed against his pillow and Nicky is beginning to seriously evaluate whether they can sleep on the floor in the middle of all this mess and not cause a mass panic, when Neil walks in. He meanders around the living room, picking up their belongings before dumping them on top of his gym bag. He finally settles, lying between Andrew and the coffee table.

"I missed you," Neil says, and Nicky can't help the single loud cackle that escapes him. Andrew rolls his eyes, but the combination of his purple shadows and swollen pink eyelids ruins any hope he has of being taken seriously.

"Oh my god you're _one of those couples_." He can't breathe. His cousin is stuck with a fucking cheeseball. _Neil Josten_ is a fucking sappy romantic. "Neil, my love, you have just made my night. You absolutely glorious, weird child." He's wiping tears of actual joy from his eyes.

"Did I just win you a bet or something?"

"No! Oh man we don't have any guesses close to this. I had my money on you being a pastel-goth couple. Andrew as the pastel aesthetic, of course." That was a waste of money, but it had been worth it to watch Kevin's face twist up at the idea of Neil having a pastel aesthetic.

"Nicky never bets seriously." Andrew mutters.

"Too right, if I care about winning then I might get distracted from the drama. Although speaking of drama, I think we've all had enough for one night." He gives Andrew's hand a squeeze, and he seems to suddenly remember Nicky's hand is there, but still squeezes back. "Do you think you can get a little more sleep?"

Andrew nods, although Nicky has his doubts that he'll even make it to bed under his own steam, so he waits for Andrew to let go and then fusses over returning his pillow while Andrew and Neil climb to their feet. Andrew seems a little wobbly, but in a tired way; Nicky is satisfied that he won't collapse and break his neck on the stairs. He switches off all the lights, and returns to his room.

Neil catches his eye in the hallway, and mouths a silent "thank you". Nicky blows him a kiss and gets a middle finger in return.

Fair enough, he asked for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the majority of this at 3am and genuinely cried writing parts of it.  
> I love Andrew, why did I do this to my boy?
> 
> Also, this fic doesn’t want to end...so, can I interest anyone in a chapter 3?


	3. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realise Abby's house was a single storey because I'm not American and one-floor houses are not the norm where I live, so enjoy Abby's bigger house courtesy of me not doing my research?
> 
> I'm also not honestly confident in how good this chapter is, I put off posting it for a long time because I was unsure of it, but I'm feeling brave!

Neil is an early riser, whether he wants to be or not. Whether he's had enough sleep or not, he's awake just after sunrise.

Normally, he'd lie in bed and enjoy the view for a while, before getting up and heading out on a run. This morning, he really doesn't feel like going for a run, and he's cursing his body clock for the hour or two of sleep it allowed him.

Still, he's awake, so he might as well open his eyes.

There's Andrew, like he is every morning. Some days, this is Neil's favourite moment, when he's sleepy enough that his brain hasn't fully kicked into gear, and all he can do is appreciate the other person in bed with him. Andrew looks almost peaceful in sleep, curled up against his pillow and buried under blankets. There isn't much of him visible; a splash of pale blond, maybe an eyebrow or fan of lashes visible behind the blanket he pulls up toward his face.

Like most mornings, Andrew stirs shortly after he does, when Neil is still sleep-drunk and blissful. His eyes open and his brows twitch.

"Staring," Andrew's voice is normally quiet in the mornings, but there's a rasp to it that Neil doesn't like the sound of.

"Appreciating," He's still coming up with new responses to that. Sometimes he gets an eye-roll, a blanket thrown over his head or just a quirk of Andrew's lip that Neil takes as amusement. Once, he'd responded and Andrew's first reaction hadn't been the pillow dropped on his face - that came later - but the slow creeping of pink up Andrew's collarbones and neck. Neil had gleefully watched it reach his ears before Andrew's pillow landed on his head.

This morning, Andrew just blinks at him and deflates slightly. Like he was braced for something else.

"Yes or no, can I fix your hair?"

"Yes." Neil reaches up, and begins rubbing the dried blood out of Andrew's fringe. The wispy strands twist together, and flakes of blood come away on Neil's fingertips.

"You have to change the sheets now." Andrew grumbles, twitching when some of the blood lands on his forehead. He eventually bats Neil's hand away, wiping at his face with the duvet.

"You could take a shower. Get all of this out before it really starts to itch." Andrew ignores that comment, but Neil lets it go. Asking Andrew to do something a second time is a waste of his time and Neil's energy.

It's early, and Abby's neighbourhood is far away from campus; Neil can hear birds in next door's tree, but the rest of the world isn't awake yet.

More reason to stay right here.

* * *

It's mid-morning by the time Neil wakes up again. His internal clock isn't responsible this time; judging by the smell that greets him when he opens the door, Nicky must be cooking. He could eat breakfast, especially if it's Nicky's. He ventures out in search of coffee and food, leaving behind the bundle of blankets that contains Andrew.

Neil gets the urge to turn around and head back to bed when he spots Nicky. The idea that Andrew could potentially look worse than this fills his stomach with lead. Nicky's hair is damp from his shower and curling at the edges, but his eyes are still watery and red, bruised underneath from a lack of sleep.

Aaron and Kevin are sitting at the kitchen island, watching Nicky cook and sipping coffee. They both leap up when Neil walks in and Nicky turns towards the doorway, but he waves them off.

"He won't be up for a while yet, don't get too excited." Neil heads straight for the coffee maker, pouring himself a mug and leaning over Nicky's pan. It smells heavenly, and Nicky chuckles, handing him a plate.

"There's some oatmeal warming up in the microwave for Andrew, just how he likes it. Let me know if he needs anything else?" Neil nods through a forkful of food. He can hear Kevin tutting in the background, and turns to shovel another mouthful in while holding eye contact with him.

Neil turns back to top up his coffee for a moment, until he hears Nicky make a strangled noise.

Oh, Andrew's up. And he looks like shit. His face is bruised down one side, purple and blue and red spilling down his temple and along his jaw. He's back to his usual expression, but Neil can see the tension around his eyes and the way Andrew's elbows stay tucked close to his ribs. He's hurting, and he wasn't expecting to be scrutinized.

"Aaron, Kevin, fuck off." Neil announces.

"Hey, what about Nicky?"

"He made breakfast, he can stay."

Neither of them looks pleased about it, but they both retreat out of sight. Andrew walks over to the island and moves like he's going to climb onto the stool Aaron had been sitting at, but at the last minute stops and leans against the counter. He's still wearing the baggy hoodie from last night, which comes down almost to his knees.

Neil pops open the microwave door and reached for a dish towel to fish out the hot bowl. He walks around the island to Andrew, putting his plate down next to him. Andrew peers into the bowl, eyes flicking towards Nicky, who's very carefully not looking at either of them.

"We need to talk," Nicky begins, tipping the contents of the pan onto a plate.

"You know I've made a point to keep my nose out of your trauma - and Aaron's, but you were the one who practically carved out the boundary with a knife - but I need to know what last night was for you. I need to know that we don't need to take this to Abby as a symptom of your concussion." He pauses from wiping down the counter and shoving utensils in the sink.

When he turns around, he scowls at Andrew, "Don't give me that fucking look, you've got a head injury, and it might not feel like a big deal to you because you're Mister Tough Guy, but it's a big deal to me. I'm here to look after you, I can't ignore something like this. You don't have to tell me everything, I just need to know you're safe-"

Nicky puts his back to them abruptly. Neil can see his arms have folded across his chest, tight and shaking in a way that can only mean he's trying not to cry. Andrew's posture has been stiffening gradually while Nicky talked, and Neil leans slightly closer. Not enough to touch, because he's certain that's the opposite of what Andrew needs, but enough that Andrew will feel his presence and his intention.

"I don't want that." Andrew says firmly, but his fingertips are pressing the dish towel hard against the countertop.

Nicky scoffs, turning around and sweeping the tears out of his eyes.

"You don't get to decide who is allowed to love you, Andrew Minyard." Neil winces at his choice of words, and the bite in his tone. Nicky is upset, and Neil is worried he'll say something that'll force Andrew's walls up again.

"Nicky..." His tone is low, a warning, but Andrew raps his spoon on the table, and Neil stops.

"You don't get to pry. If you don't get the answer you're looking for, that's not my problem." Nicky nods at Andrew's rules, silent and grim.

"I thought-" Andrew pauses, breathes out and doesn't breathe in for a moment. Neil twitches, desperate to step in. To stop Andrew tearing the secrets out of himself like poison barbs.

"Andrew, I want one answer. You just need to give me a yes or no, and we can never talk about this again." Nicky pleads, leaning on the island. His hands are spread on the countertop, inches from Andrew's, but neither makes any attempt to touch. That moment has passed, it belonged in the dead of night when Andrew felt too unsteady and needed a physical anchor. It occurs to Neil that while Nicky pushes on occasion, he knows how to handle his cousin.

Andrew nods stiffly, breath stuttering when his neck protests. Neil feels the tension lance through Andrew's body.

"Last night, when you said you did it on purpose. I know you weren't talking about this crash. Did you dream about Tilda's accident?"

Neil forgets how quietly, dangerously perceptive Nicky is. An easy smile and flirty laugh distracts all too easily from the way he watches everyone so critically. And Nicky watches nobody like he watches his cousins. He's so caught up in re-evaluating Nicky that he almost misses Andrew's quiet "yes".

Nicky leans his weight onto his elbows so he can press his hands to his face. He sighs, and when he thanks Andrew, his voice is thick with tears.

Before Neil can say anything - although he's not sure what he would say if he'd even had the chance - Nicky collects his abandoned coffee and leaves the room. They sit in silence, listening to his footsteps track up the stairs and down the hallway.

Andrew picks his spoon back up, pushing it into his oatmeal and mixing the sweet, thick mixture around. His free hand turns over and places itself between the two of them.

"Yes or no?"

Neil doesn't pause, fitting his hand into Andrew's and squeezing.

"Yes, always."

Andrew doesn't smile, but the way he sighs and starts to eat tells Neil all he needs to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm 5'7 and a men's XL t-shirt is nearly knee-length on me. If we make the assumption that Abby's of average height, one of her baggy/comfy hoodies (or one she stole from Wymack) would swamp Andrew and that's something I live for.


End file.
